Something Suspicious
by MiekoYagyu
Summary: When Joji hears rumors of a certain killer, he's convinced it's his baby brother, Shinta, as much as he is loathe to admit. He sets off in hopes of denying this theory, but will he like what he finds out? I have upped the rating just in case.
1. Rumors

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer:** No, I do not own Kenshin, for the eighth time already! (Note: This is a sequel to "I Told You I Would Come Back".)

**/oOo/**

The rice was growing perfectly, the sky had not a cloud in it, and the temperature was absolutely just right. Yet, Joji was upset. Not the kind of upset like, 'darn-I've-just-stepped-into-mud-with-my-new-shoes', or 'if-my-neighbor-leaves-his-dog-outside-to-tear-up-my-rice-crop-_one_-_more_-_time_-!' It was more like, 'Today's-the-anniversary-of-my-baby-brother-being-sold-into-slavery' kind of upset. Nobody messed with Joji today of all days. It had been 10 _years_ since that slug had separated the two brothers, had basically cut of all hopes of survival for Shinta, for Shinta couldn't be a slave; he'd rather die. And Joji knew that.

Joji had cast his faith that somehow, _somehow,_ that Shinta had narrowly lived out of the window when he heard that the slavers (the worst kind of people, besides the headman, in Joji's estimation) had been victim to a bandit attack, and that nobody came out alive, not even the bandits themselves.

Joji had tried to be happy, and he was. He had a beautiful wife, and 3 gorgeous children, 2 boys and his baby girl, and served a (somewhat) benevolent daimyo. But on important events, like Shinta's birthday or like today, Joji would slip into a mild depression. His wife had learned that Joji wanted nothing but Shinta on days like that, but that wish became more infantile to dream about with every passing year.

It was on the very next day that Joji heard whispers of the murder that had happened not far from the castle.

"Oi! Joji!" yelled the gossip of the village, Hama. Joji liked the old man, as he told the best stories, but also the best lies. You couldn't trust Hama any more than you could throw a blacksmith's anvil.

"What is it this time, Hama? Fire in the kitchens? Somebody poached a pheasant?" asked Joji.

"Well, yes, now that you say that, Genji finally got a hold of one- but listen to this! There's been a killing! And you'll _love _who it is!"

"Yanami?"

"_Pfft_! You wish! I hear it's your old headman!"

Joji startled. "Hama, if this is another lie, so help me-"

"What's with the distrust? I got it from the stable boy! Apparently, the daimyo is _extremely_ angry. The headman was a source of considerable income to the estates, and now that he's gone with no heir… well, take it from me, we could get the brunt of this storm." Hama got a grim look, as he was old enough to remember the whippings the old daimyo liked to give out.

"The lord wouldn't do that. He needs healthy workers to get the crop in. We can't do that if are backs are torn up." Joji argued.

"Tell that to him, not me."

Joji sighed. He was glad that someone finally dispatched the parasite, but at their expense…? That was cruel.

"Do they know who did it?" inquired Joji.

"That's the juicy part. There's a rumor it was Hitokiri Battosai!" Hama grinned savagely. "Maybe he's still there, and he'll take out the daimyo as well." Hama hated the daimyo, he despised being a peasant, and he loathed the Shogunate, whom the daimyo fully supported.

"Don't say that, Hama. That could be counted as insubordination," warned Joji.

"They'll never catch me alive!" The way Hama spoke; you could've sworn he was 27, not 63.

"Right. And Akari is the Empress," jested Joji, naming his wife.

"You never know."

"Grow up. Anyway, the chances Battosai did it are so slim, Runaway Kogoro couldn't slip through them."

"Burst my bubble, why don't you? It's not so far-fetched. Your old headman _was_ a Bafuku supporter, wasn't he?" Hama countered.

"Battosai is new on the scene. The headman was a maggot and a pain, yes, but not so low to be taken out by a newcomer." Joji insisted.

"I have it from a very reliable source that he was actually there for about 2-3 years before he came out of the woodwork." Hama exclaimed.

"You have termites coming out of your wooden excuse of a head."

"Low blow. Really low blow. I have information I'm not going to tell you anymore just because of that," sniffed Hama in mock disgust. Joji could tell Hama was just dying to tell him, but Japanese pride was getting in the way.

"What is it?" Joji sighed.

"You know how the daimyo filters _everything _we hear?"

"Yeah…?"

"That included descriptions of this guy."

"Nobody knew about him before the Ikedeya Incident. That might be why, not the daimyo."

"Listen to me! I got this from a guy belonging to the Kiheitai. He was there when he first saw the boy."

"Boy?" The killer was a boy?

"Yeah! He said he was a slight thing, skinnier than a starved dog."

"And let me guess. He was eight feet tall, had 'blazing suns' for eyes, and shot fire from them?" Joji scoffed.

"Don't be stupid. He was short. About 13. And he had his own katana."

"A samurai, then? Only those idiots are allowed his swords." Joji had a personal vendetta against samurai. His uncle had been a victim of 'slash-and-run', and Joji had hated samurai ever since.

"No. He had only one sword. And if he were a samurai, why would he join the Kiheitai? They're peasants, craftsmen, or merchants."

"Fine, you got me there. Continue."

"Gladly. Everyone thought he was a foreigner. But you should've seen the way he handled that sword. They say he cut through the wood training post like it was water. Then they said he demolished the reed mats and turned the wood into pulp by smashing his saya into the side. He was like an ogre! Apparently, Katsura got his mitts on him and sent him off taking down those samurai beasts." Hama looked at Joji, trying to gauge his reaction.

'_Foreigner, foreigner… Where have I heard that before…? Wasn't Shinta always called a foreigner?' _ Joji thought. To make sure that it _wasn't _Shinta (as it couldn't be), he asked, "Did he know what he looked like beyond that? Like hair and eye color for instance?"

"Yeah, can't believe I forgot to tell you that. He had red hair and- Hey, are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost," worried Hama.

Joji's face had gone pale, and a curtain of cold sweat popped up on his temples. "It can't be him. It just can't. He never picked up a sword in his life; he died. He died in the attack. Nobody survived. Nobody. It can't be him. It can't…"

"Umm, okay then, I'll just be taking my leave then, heh." With that, Hama strode of quickly, throwing anxious looks back at the muttering Joji.

Something was suspicious, and it wasn't Hama's tale. Was his sweet, little brother a cold-hearted assassin? Nothing was making sense anymore. Joji only knew one thing, and that was finding out where in the world was this killer and that meant going to Kyoto. And to get to Kyoto, he had to leave behind his home.

**Author's Note:** This is a cliffhanger, obviously. Another obvious thing is that this is not an oneshot. This will be my first multi-chaptered fic (dun dun dun!)! This fic would not have been born until certain reviewers (who shall remain nameless) asked me to do a sidestory/sequel. And so I did. Lucky you! You now have yet another bad story clogging up your fansite! Yay! See you next chapter (if I have time)! MiekoYagyu, signing off, but not forever!


	2. Stubbornness Runs in the Family

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer:** Back you salivating lawyers! Away with those accusations of copyright infringement! I do not own Rurouni Kenshin and the like. I only own my Original Characters (who are looking rather 2-D to me right now. **Looks fondly at Watsuki's characters.** Why can't I have characters like that?!).

**-oOo-**

Akari loved her husband. Her spouse had a mellow personality, treated her with respect, and valued her opinions. He knew she wasn't just a pretty face, and that she had a mind. He was kind, intelligent, and patient. The perfect partner. The only thing that contradicted his personality was that he was as stubborn as a mule. And Akari knew that his stubbornness wouldn't let him change his mind about this.

His plan; his stupid, stupid plan to travel to Kyoto, to leave his life to chase a rumor! What was he thinking? He had a family; he had a living, and he was going to give it up. And he thought nothing of it.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" she had said when he told her he was leaving. He already had his clothes packed up in a sack. The children were in bed, not knowing of the drama playing before them.

"I have to make sure it isn't him," her husband had muttered with a feverish glint in his eyes.

"What?! What are you talking about, Joji? Who's this him?" Her husband was going crazy, for there was no other explanation for this.

"I… I think my brother is still alive." The words were faint, almost too quiet to be heard; as if he said them loudly they would turn out to be a naïve fantasy.

"Your brother? But he _died_! In the bandit attack! There is no hope he survived." Of course it was the little brother. Joji had loved his little brother, Shinta, but this was madness.

"But, the thing is… there's been talk. About a red-haired Patriot…"

"And then you instantly thought of Shinta," finished Akari. Joji had told her about Shinta one winter day. How he had an infectious laugh and a sunny temperament. How he had hair has scarlet as the rising sun, and eyes that were like the purple flowers that bloomed on the summer hillside. Joji did not have his brother's red hair, but his eyes were violet too. Joji remarked he looked like his deceased father and older brother.

"Yes. And now I have too make sure if he's alive… or dead." Joji bowed his head, staring at the floor. His wife had an unsettling aura around her. She wasn't unusual in looks; in fact, she looked like the average Japanese woman, but she had this way of seeming like she was peering into your soul.

"Well then. I guess I'm going to have to pack my things. And the children need to be woken up." Akari said after a few agonizing seconds.

"What?" Joji's head snapped up. "You're coming?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course I am, and so are Kitaro, Hideaki, and Ayame," she said, naming their three children.

"But it's dangerous!" Joji argued.

"All the more reason to come. I'm sorry Joji, but your cooking skills leave much to be desired. You'll starve to death. And if I'm coming, the kids are coming too."

"But-"

"No buts. We're coming with you, or my name isn't Akari."

And that was that. Akari still thought the plan was idiotic, but her husband needed her and the children, even if he didn't know that.

-oOo-

The spring dew glistened on the wooden beams of the building, making it look like it was studded with crystals. It gave it a softer look, but the problem was that it was wet. Himura Kenshin grimaced as he felt the wet droplets sink into the back of his shirt. He was currently guarding a certain Katsura Kogoro, who was attending a covert meeting with Sakamoto Ryoma and Okubo Toshimichi. Bodyguard detail was boring, very monotonous, as it involved talking and long-winded speeches, especially when Saigo Takamori was there. Kenshin preferred this to his old job immensely, however.

"Himura. It's time to take my leave," spoke Katsura, Kenshin's superior. He had a soft voice, but Kenshin had seen Katsura berating fellow Isshin-Shishi for endangering the cause plenty of times before.

Kenshin stood up with cat-like grace, and shrugged on his haori, a Japanese jacket that reached to the thighs. He stepped lithely after Katsura, putting on his conical hat, a suge-gasa, to hide his flaming red hair. A bandage covered his left cheek, to hide the telltale X-shaped scar. Now that everybody knew what the 'Hitokiri Battosai' looked like, he wasn't going to take any chances to have somebody recognize him. He wasn't in the mood to fend off 20 Shinsengumi members tonight.

They made their way back to the Kohagi-ya, the rebuilt inn that housed much of the Choshu Imperialists. It had been a long day, and Kenshin wanted to go upstairs into his room and sleep. Dinner didn't entice him. It hadn't in 3 long years.

-oOo-

Kyoto was the scariest place in Japan in Ayame's opinion. There was a whole bunch of people, nothing like the quiet village she had grown up in. The 5-year-old girl who had her father's eyes shot a wary look around. Everybody was walking fast, and they didn't say hello to each other or smile like the villagers did. Everything was so strange and different. Ayame tightened her grip on her 9-year-old brother Kitaro.

"Kitaro-nii, why is it so loud?" she whispered. Kitaro didn't hear her. A fat man who was stumbling along came and crashed into Kitaro, and then Ayame had no one to hold onto. Looking along frantically, she tried to spot her older brothers and her parents. She was tired from walking 3 whole days and now she was lost in a huge city.

Suddenly, she saw something red. It wasn't a kimono or a gi like some people were wearing. It came from underneath a hat! It was long and pretty, and it reminded her of her mother's scarf. It was the exact same shade. So Ayame went running after the 'prettiful' red, reminded of her mother. Maybe the owner of the red thing would help her find Kitaro-nii and Hideaki-nii and Okaa-san and Otou-san!

She ran after the owner of the red thing, and when she was close enough to touch it, the person span around. It was a man, and he had funny-scary eyes. They were yellow. He had grasped something in front of him. Ayame shrank back. He had swords. The man was a samurai, just like the scary men who rode on big black horses.

He peered down at Ayame, and his yellow eyes changed color. They turned into Joji's eyes and her eyes. They were somehow different though. They reminded Ayame of the sad old woman whose son died of infection last year. The man stared at her with those violet eyes, and then said:

"Oro?"

**Author's Note:**Muhahahahahaha! Never shall I end this story on a spot that will even remotely satisfy readers! To quote an insane hitokiri: Uhuhu! Seriously folks, I'm so sorry for the late update. I was too immersed into my shiny new iTouch. It's the coolest thing ever since the invention of Saturday cartoons! I'm going to update this soon (I hope, if there is no writer's block), so don't think I'm going to ditch this fanfic! I don't like those stories that do, so do not worry, my faithful (if they are out there) reviewers (cough*hint*cough)! Ja ne! MiekoYagyu!


	3. Too Pure

**Something Suspicious **

**Disclaimer: **How much money do I need to buy off Kenshin…? I wonder…

**-oOo-**

"Oro?" Kenshin stared with his big, purple eyes at the girl who insisted on staring up at him, eyes closed in a smile.

The girl giggled. "That's a funny sound, mister. Where did you get that?"

"Wha-?" The man was now looking at her even closer. She had lavender eyes.

"And your eyes! They're like mine! Except mine are prettier. I think."

"Uh…"

"And are you a samurai, like those ones Otou-san hates? Or are you, ah, what's the word I'm looking for…? Oh, yes! Rurouni! Are you a rurouni?"

"Rurouni? Don't you mean ronin?" Kenshin was being sucked into the conversation. He was interested in the little girl. She had this spark about her.

"Yup! Ronin! Although I like rurouni better," the girl chirped. "Hey, mister, what's your name?"

"Ah, it's, uh, Himura." Kenshin fidgeted; he wasn't comfortable with giving out his name.

"Himura isn't a name, silly! And if it is your name, it's a funny one." The girl looked up at Kenshin with her big violet eyes sparkling with laughter.

Kenshin looked around, then bent in and whispered, "My name is Kenshin."

"Shin-nii?"

"What was that?"

"Shin-nii. You don't mind that, do you?"

"It's fine."

"Shin-nii?"

"Yes?"

"Why are we whispering?"

"Because my name is an absolute secret. You mustn't tell anyone, okay?"

"Okay. My name is Ayame! My brothers are Kitaro-nii and Hideaki-nii, and Okaa-san is Okaa-san and Otou-san is Otou-san!" Kenshin fought to keep dismay off his face. Of _course_ her name would mean Iris. The gods must hate him.

"Alright, Ayame, do you know where your family is?" He really must hurry; Katsura had other bodyguards, but he didn't want to bother with the lecture Okami-san would give him for staying behind.

"Nope!"

"Do you know where they were heading-" Something stopped Kenshin, and those violet eyes of his widened.

He felt a presence he had not felt in many years, ten very long years. Kenshin could sense the bright ki of his brother, Joji.

Kenshin was adept at feeling ki at the age of 4, albeit it was somewhat latent. He just knew the feel of people at that age, not what their feelings were, or what they would most likely do next. He had learned those abilities with his master. He recognized his brother's signature, although it was different. It was harder around the edges, and worried.

Then Kenshin took a better look at the girl, Ayame. Her eyes looked exactly like Joji's. It couldn't be -it just couldn't be- was Ayame Joji's _daughter_?

"Come, little one. I know where your father is." Kenshin struggled to keep his voice even. His brother was alive! And here! Kenshin grasped Ayame's hand, warm on his palm, and started to walk fast in Joji's direction. Excitement ran through him. He would finally see his brother again, his long-lost brother!

There he was, right by the street corner. He was standing next to a pretty woman, who held the hands of two young boys. He was looking about frantically. He was obviously scanning the crowds for Ayame. Just a few steps, 20 in all, was all that was separating him from his brother. Ayame ran, seeing her family. Kenshin was about to run after her, but something stopped him.

Joji had a family. A stable family. A warm, loving family. He did not deserve to even know such love. He watched Joji and the woman embrace Ayame. His hands were too dirty, too bloody. He would not tarnish such an innocent thing with his filthy hands. Kenshin took a step backwards, etching his brother's face into his mind. Then he spun around on his foot, and sank into the shadows, disappearing.

-oOo-

Joji held his daughter close to his chest, worry over her whereabouts evaporating. Then relief took a backstage seat, and parental anger came out. "Where were you? Did you know how worried we were?"

Ayame looked down at the ground, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Otou-san. I didn't mean to make you worry," she whispered.

"How did you find us?" asked Hideaki. "We've been looking for you."

Ayame brightened at that. "My friend helped me. His name was Shin-nii! He helped me find you! He had eyes like me, Otou-san! Except mine are prettier."

"Shin-nii? Had eyes like mine? Ayame, what was his _real_ name?" Joji asked.

"Uh…um… Himura? Himura… Kenshin! Kenshin! That was his name! Except that's a secret! So don't tell anyone, okay, Otou-san?" Ayame was excited at telling her 'Otou-san' this exciting news.

"Himura Kenshin…" murmured Joji. It wasn't all that unusual for slaves to have their name changed by their owners. Shinta could have had his name changed, if someone before the bandit attack bought him. But that left a hole between then and now, about a 9 to 10 years gap. What was his little brother doing with a sword? He _really _should have though this through.

"Joji," Akari said, "we will help you by asking around for a Himura Kenshin. But it will help if you would bring your head out of the clouds."

Joji shook his head to clear his mind. "Alright. Let's get to it."

-oOo-

Aforementioned Himura Kenshin sat under Katsura's piercing gaze. Kenshin didn't move, rather, he stared back. Katsura stared for a few more minutes, as if trying to decipher his prized bodyguard. Finally, Katsura shook his head and sighed. He took up a steaming cup of tea, the scent of green tea wafting up in spirals.

"Himura. Do you know why you are here?" Katsura took a long sip from his teacup.

"I think I do." Kenshin stood with his back straight. His body posture didn't let on his mind, heart, and soul was drowning in misery.

"Then you know why this cannot go on."

"I will continue to be your bodyguard. I will see this through. But when the actual war starts, I will take my leave."

"Are you sure? I can see you being ripped in pieces by what you did, and what you're doing. I'm afraid that you won't be able to function after the revolution is over."

"The new age, your new age, is not mine to fight for. I will help it get started, but if I actually fight for it, people will look on it and say it is tarnished by my name. I will not do that, and let all I have done be in vain. What _she_ did be all in vain." Kenshin stood up silently. "I must take my leave now. I am tired."

Katsura watched him go with silent eyes. Kenshin had been long gone when he finally spoke.

"And what will you do when this is done, Himura? It is not whether you turn on our new Japan, but whether you'll survive to see it."

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **After long trials, upsetting ordeals, and rabid bears (trust me, you _never_ want to see one of those!) I have finally updated! YES! I hope you will find this worth the wait. It is rather hard to type when your arms are tied to your torso. Mom finally got me admitted to the asylum. It's rather cozy. I think you would like it. Ah, well. Chapter four will be up soon, don't you worry. Farewell fellow readers and lovers of Rurouni Kenshin, until next time!

-MiekoYagyu


	4. NotSoHappy Reunion

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Rk, I wouldn't be typing this. It would have appeared already as canon.

**-oOo-**

The flower seller on the intersection of two battered roads was doing considerably well in those turbulent times. In fact, you could say Genma's business was booming. Or blooming, as he liked to say.

The reason for such business growth was that flowers were high in demand.**  
**Either they were for flower arranging, for people who wanted to take their minds of the bloodshed happening right under their noses, or for graves. Genma had such a customer who came every other week. The faithful customer was a rather shy and silent fellow, in Genma's opinion, not like anybody asked the opinion of a lowly flower vendor.

Genma looked up to see the weathered face of a farmer. He was a handsome man, with thick, black hair and a stubborn chin. But his eyes were what got him. They were the color of his prize irises, purple-blue. Just like Genma's customer.

"Can I help you?" said Genma, picking up a fairly pretty ajisai- a hydrangea.

"Yes. Do you know a Himura Kenshin? We're currently looking for him," the farmer asked. He was standing next to a knock-out of a woman. He better keep her close if he wanted to keep her untouched. Many unsavory men walked the streets of Kyoto. Three children stood next to them. One boy, who looked like his mother, was propping up his sister on his hip. The other boy was staring at all the people walking by.

"Himura… Hm, let me think…" Genma racked his brains. Then it dawned on him about the one time hi customer had been called on by another man. The man had called him Himura. "Yeah, I know a Himura! He's a regular here. Always picks up a few irises."

The little girl perked up at the word 'irises. "Just like my name, Hideaki-nii!" she told to the brother holding her up. The girl had bright purple eyes. Maybe that's where her name came from.

The farmer gripped the counter. "Do you have any idea where he's residing? I really must find him."

"Um… I have seen him walk off to the inns before. A guy came here once and said to come back to the Kohagi-ya. Might want to try there. Hey, are you in anyway related to him?" asked Genma. "You look a lot alike. You've got the same eyes and face. It's a bit uncanny."

The farmer grimaced. "Sort of. I haven't seen him in a while. Thanks for the help." Genma nodded, and before the family turned to go, he had the ajisai to the girl. He winked.

"A pretty flower for a pretty girl. It matches your eyes." The girl giggled, and showed off the flower to her brothers. The mother gave her thanks, and then they were swept up into the crowded streets.

"Nice family. Good-looking too." With that, Genma smiled, and started to whistle a happy tune.

-oOo-

Okami was not a very happy woman that day. She was getting too old to take after an inn bursting to the seams of Imperialists. She checked her register again. Most of the names were correct, with the exception of a few key names. The revolution was important, but at the sake of keeping men who constantly drank up all her sake and defaulted on bills was a bit too much. Okami would go out of business. At least Katsura and some of his men were considerate. Like that poor boy Himura.

Okami sighed and shook her head. Now there was an example of Katsura's bigger mistakes. Involving a boy that young in something like this! Okami had discovered the boy's secret when Himura's clothing kept coming in every other day in the laundry, covered with blood. He was too young to be an assassin, and now the work was catching up to him; not to mention that Tomoe's death was very difficult on him too.

Okami sighed once more. Tomoe didn't deserve to die so young. She was such a hard worker. She was beautiful as well. She and Himura made such a cute pair.

The front door of the inn opened. Okami looked up, annoyed and ready to bite the head off some samurai who most likely was tracking in mud. Her face softened when she saw a family of five, obviously poor and out of place. Okami checked her roster to see if there was enough room.

"Welcome to the Kohagi-ya! What can we do to help you?" asked Okami, putting on a bright face. She had discovered this was the best way to have _paying _customers.

"Excuse me, but do you have a Himura Kenshin staying here?" The man inquired. Okami scrutinized him and his family. He and the little girl had Himura's eyes, albeit their eyes still had a spark of life in them. Himura's were dead, cold, and vacant.

"I'm sorry, but that information is classified. It's against policy to give out names of people, here or not." Okami knew that this could be some sort of Shinsengumi trick, or maybe the Mimiwarigumi. All were enemies anyway.

"Please? I have to know. It's very important," the man pleaded. Okami peered closer. The man had the same facial structure as Himura. And again, those eyes! Purple as the flower the little girl was clutching in her hand.

Okami was about to ask him if he knew Himura, by any chance, when the door opened again. Himura stepped in, holding several parcels that a maid had bought in the market. It was common practice for the serving girls to have Himura carry their packages, because he was courteous, and listened to them blab on and on about the latest gossip. Okami was sure Himura tolerated this because Katsura had told him to go out every once and a while.

Himura spotted who Okami was talking to, and his face grew very pale. He tried to sneak upstairs quietly, but the maid grabbed his arm and asked, "Hey, Himura-san, where are you going? The kitchens are this way!" very loudly. Okami saw Himura curse under his breath.

The man whirled around, and took in the sight of bright amethyst eyes. His eyes grew very wide, and started to water when he made the connection of his face to Himura's. "Shinta…?" he whispered.

Himura gazed at the floor. "I don't go by that anymore, onii-san," he said quietly.

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **Ohohoho! It is true; I am mucho mal for any readers looking for a good place to ditch this story! I have not given up! This is the longest I've managed to write a story without getting tired of it. Yippee! I wasn't very proud of the last chapter (it being so short and all) but I need to clarify some things: one, Tomoe is constantly associated with white plums and irises in the OVA. That's why Kenshin reacted so negatively when he heard Ayame's name, which means 'Iris'. Second, I made Katsura look at Kenshin in a more fatherly-teacher sort of way.

I do like Genma in this story. And by the way, (my sister brought this up) when Genma says Ayame is pretty, he doesn't mean it in _that_ sort of way! It's purely fact. Ayame is too cute for her own good. See you in the next chapter (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!)!


	5. Brotherly Arguing

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer: **Really? Do I _really _have to say again that I do NOT own Rurouni Kenshin, or even the computer I'm typing this on? Seriously, folks, don't rub salt onto my open, gaping wound that Battosai gave me when he saw this fic.

**-oOo-**

Okami was shocked. Stunned. Astounded. Amazed. In fact, there were no words to fully describe her surprise. Did Himura just call this young farmer boy his elder brother? And just when she thought she had seen all the miracles the gods could offer. The serving girl, none to bright, continued to tug on Himura's shirtsleeve, whining about her packages. Okami wanted to smack her around the inn. Was the girl that stupid and oblivious to the tension?

The farmer blinked. And blinked again. In fact, it took his wife to tap his shoulder to wake up from his daze. He finally sputtered out, "You l-look different."

"I am different," whispered Himura.

An uncomfortable silence settled onto the inn's front room. Okami waited until it went on for 10 long seconds that felt like 10 days. "Would you like to talk in private, Himura? And with your…brother?" Goodness gracious, that felt weird on the tongue!

"Hai. I would like that, Okami-san," Himura said in the confining politeness that Japanese commanded.

"Why don't you take the spare room in the back? I will take your brother's family to a room upstairs, if your brother will let me."

The man startled. He was busy inspecting Himura. "Ah, I'm sorry. My name is Joji. And this is my wife Akari. My children, Kitaro, Hideaki, and Ayame." He pointed to a child as he said their name. Akari grabbed her children and followed Okami, who had started upstairs.

Personally, Okami was glad to leave the room. On her way upstairs, she grabbed the foolish maid and tossed her upstairs. She was old, but you had to be strong to control rowdy samurai. Akari walked up the stairs silently, children trailing her like ducklings.

Okami sighed heartily.

"What is it, Okami-san?" inquired Akari.

"Oh, I'm just glad to escape that veritable sword pit," Okami muttered.

-oOo-

Inside the spare room, Kenshin was on edge. His ki sense was thrumming as if he was staring Saitou Hajime, Nagakura Shinpachi, and Okita Souji in the face. Which was funny, because he knew Joji didn't threaten him with a sword, trying to aim for his gut. Yet Kenshin knew he would prefer facing the entire Shinsengumi Corps than face his older brother right here and now.

What would he say? What should he say? Would Joji reject him, be disgusted knowing his little brother was a murderer of hundreds, of thousands?

"It's been a long time, onii-san." That was a good start. Not! Reminding Joji and him of one of the worst times in Kenshin's angst-filled life was a horrible idea!

"I should say so. 10 years is a long time. I must say, I am surprised to see you with swords." Joji wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the ceiling.

"Wha-?" Kenshin then remembered that Joji only knew Shinta the farmer's son, not Kenshin the Swordsman. "Oh, yes. I know swordsmanship now." Darn, he was sounding bitterer than he wanted to.

"Oh. Don't go by Shinta anymore, do you?" This was awkward. Very awkward.

"No. My shishou gave me a new name. It's Kenshin, now." His wakizashi was right there. If he stabbed himself, he could do it fast enough that Joji wouldn't be able to stop him. _If_ he would stop him.

"Shishou?" That was right. He didn't know.

"The slavers were killed by a swordsman traveling through. He left me, and I buried the bodies. When he came back, he took me in," Kenshin said, emotionless. It seemed if that had happened to another person, as if the time with Hiko and learning swordsmanship was something but a glimpse of someone's memory.

"You buried their bodies?" Joji turned to look at him, puzzled. Kenshin now had to look down.

"Once you're dead, it doesn't matter anymore. They were just bodies then. Anyway, there were three girls who helped me that died… They protected me, until the very end." His voice wavered on the last part. The slavers still held a grip over his memories, however sad.

"Shin- I mean, Kenshin… What happened to you? Where's your smile? Why are you doing this?"

"The Demon of Kyoto isn't supposed to smile, onii-san." An acrid smile played upon his lips. There. It was out now. The biggest secret of Kenshin's life was exposed.

Joji made a noise in the back of his throat. It was something between a sob and a sigh of 'I-knew-it'. Kenshin buried his head in one hand. He would not cry. It just wouldn't do.

Joji buried his head in his hands as well. "Why?" he cracked out.

"I felt that I had to protect the innocent. I felt that I could do something. I didn't know it would come to this. I thought I could be a soldier. I wasn't planning on becoming an assassin. It just happened," Kenshin whispered.

"The innocent? You did this because of some _ideal_?" Joji said in disbelief, whipping his head upwards.

Kenshin nodded. What could he say to that? It was true.

"You became a murderer because you felt like it was the right thing to do?" Joji's voice grew steadily louder.

"Yes." '_Don't you dare cry, Himura Kenshin, Shinta, Battosai, whoever I am! Don't you dare!_' he thought furiously.

"I can't believe this! I can't! You- you _hated _violence! You cried when Kokori told you to kill that rabbit! You couldn't have done this! I can't _believe_ this!" raged Joji.

Kenshin looked up. Joji had tears in the corners of his eyes. For some odd reason, it made him angry.

"Well, _brother_," he hissed, "I seem to have changed in 10 years, no? I go from not killing a rabbit to killing samurai! So you _better_ believe it, because it's happening!"

"It's not 'happening' anymore! You're going to stop this, if I have a say in this!" yelled Joji.

He did not just say that.

"Then it's too bad you have no say in what I do! I made a promise, Joji! I swore I would see this revolution through, and you can't stop me. Shishou couldn't, and he is by _far _stronger than you are!" Kenshin glared at his brother.

Joji let out an angry breath. He closed his eyes and counted to 10. "Do you have any _idea_, any at all, what these last 10 years have been like?" he said between clenched teeth. "How miserable it was?"

Kenshin laughed in hysterics. "Miserable? Miserable? I'm sorry Joji, but you have no idea what misery is! I do, though. Your troubles could fill a thimble next to the ocean of misery I've been through! You have a family, a wife and kids, and I had no one, no one except an irritable swordsman whose favorite punching bag was a red-haired midget! That I ran out on! And when I finally found someone I could lean against, she-" Kenshin stopped. Dangerous territory was being treaded on.

Joji sat shell-shocked at his brother's tirade. "Who is this 'she'?"

"No one that concerns you. If you want my advice, you should get out of this gods-forsaken place. That's the only thing you should do in Kyoto nowadays." With that, Kenshin stomped out of the spare room, snapping at a wide-eyed man who was quaking in fear at the almighty Battosai.

-oOo-

Akari knew something was up when her husband walked into their room, morose. He sat with a groan on the futon. Akari bustled over to Joji, eyes asking what had happened. The children were conked out on their futons, tired from walking all day.

"Oh, Akari. I messed up. I messed up a lot. I started yelling at him, and he got upset." He covered his face with his calloused hands.

"What did you say to him?" she asked.

"Well, for starters, 'why in the name of all the kami did you become an assassin?' And, 'what did you do for 10 years?'"

"I suspect the problem is lying mostly with you," Akari said simply.

"Oi! You're supposed to take my side, darling and dutiful wife of mine."

"If I took your side all the time, it would cause you to have a heavy head too large for your neck," she teased. Then she sobered. "Anyway, what do you expect? He most likely wanted a happy Joji; arms wide open with loving care. Instead he gets the angry older brother, with a scowl instead of a smile."

"I got really angry. He's been killing people, Akari. My little brother."

"You knew that. I knew that. In fact, I bet Kitaro and Hideaki knew that. We knew when he heard about the red hair. How many people have red hair in this country?"

"There was that one false alarm here with that midget of a kid that was hanging around that small brunette."

"Joji…" warned Akari.

"Alright, alright, there's not a lot of redhead's around here. Or anywhere in Japan," admitted Joji.

"Patch things up with your brother tomorrow. You'll have cooled down by then. He should too."

"Yeah. But there's one thing bothering me."

"What?" asked Akari.

"He said something about a woman."

"He is a male, sweetheart. A teenage male. You know how _you_ were."

"I was the perfect gentleman!" protested Joji.

"Sure you were. Just like Hama doesn't tell tall tales, that old liar," she said fondly. Back in the village, Hama sneezed all over his dinner, and his wife's. She was not happy.

"Humph."

Akari kissed his forehead. "I'm going to take a nap now. If you know what's good for you, you'll do the same."

Joji pondered his brother's furious diatribe. Who was this female that made his brother's face blanch so quickly? Was she the reason he credited with his desolated state of mind? Oh, he had so many questions now that the first one had been answered.

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **Yes, I admit it. I'm a shameless Battosai fan. Not because he's drop-dead gorgeous (he is), but he has a detailed and complex personality.

Okay. Here's some info: 1.) This is about 6 months after Tomoe's death. So Kenshin's still is grieving. 2.) Hama's sneezing because Japanese lore says that if you sneeze, someone is talking about you. 3.) Joji has a very unconventional wife. She speaks her mind (^-^). Yes. I have been reduced to emoticons. But it is a _Japanese_ emoticon, so I'm justified. See you soon!


	6. Bloody Uncle Red

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer: **Good news, minna-san! Battosai didn't kill me when he stabbed me. I guess being a girl saved my life here. This still won't change the fact that I'm currently hospitalized. So sorry for the inconvenience, as it was inexcusable for me to wait this long to upload. Forgive me!

**-oOo- **

Kenshin came back that night dripping in blood.

After his argument with Joji, some drunken Imperialists had instantly caught him, pushing him out onto the street. The lanterns had yet to be lit, and the idiots started to mock him. He was about to give them his most withering glare when a whole squad of Shinsengumi popped up out of nowhere. The Isshin-Shishi had fled, with the pack of wolves on their heels. Kenshin had mused for a few seconds whether or not to go after them, then decided his mood couldn't get any worse.

Catching up to the Shinsengumi had been easy. They hadn't gone far, so Kenshin waited for them to get out of the district until he struck. Saitou had gotten better at recognizing his kills, so he wasn't about to slaughter an entire unit outside of the Choushu's headquarters.

'_It is a good thing that the Isshin has some fast runners,_' Kenshin thought. '_Otherwise these fools would've been killed already._'

They finally stopped out at a shrine, the Shinsengumi circling their weaponless prey. The first Shinsengumi member didn't even notice Battosai's katana sink deeply into his chest. The second was caught before the first body dropped to the ground.

The other eight caught on after that. Battosai weaved and ducked underneath their sloppy swings, slicing his sword into their flesh. The drunken Patriots stared in amazement as Kenshin annihilated their opponents in no time at all.

Dosed in wolves' blood and about as angry as one on a cold winter day, Kenshin glared at the morons who had started the whole mess. They quaked in fear at the Demon of Kyoto.

"Get back to the inn," Kenshin said in monotone. The Isshin-Shishi ran faster than when they were being chased. Kenshin waited among the dead, staring with a distant look in his eyes.

These men did not have to die. If only the drunks hadn't been so loud about their affiliation with him, if only. Did these men have family, friends waiting for them? Not knowing that they're cherished ones were dead, in one of the most violent ways? Kenshin had a lot of these sorts of thoughts after… Tomoe.

"I hope you find happiness in the afterlife." Kenshin bowed, and set off towards the Kohagi-ya, feeling depressed.

**-oOo-**

Joji woke up to the sounds of dawn, birds chirping and sunbeams dancing across the floor. Akari was folding up her yukata, smiling when she saw Joji blinking sleepily at her.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Got enough sleep last night?" she asked, picking up a comb to run through her black hair.

"Ugh." Joji rammed his head underneath his futon. "My, this is comfy. How are we going to pay for this?"

"Okami-san, the innkeeper, is letting me help her. It doesn't hurt that you are related to Shinta," Akari said simply.

"Apparently, he goes by Kenshin now." Joji wrapped his forearm around his face. "So many changes! Why can't the world have the decency to same the same?"

"But then we wouldn't learn anything from adversity, now would we?" Akari mumbled, a pondering glimmer in her eyes. Joji didn't see it.

"How are the kids?" he asked.

"Just fine. They're sleeping. We're going outside later to explore. The courtyard, anyway."

"Mm. Time to get up it seems." Joji yawned, and stretched. The futon was _very_ comfortable, compared to the bed he had at home. It was like sleeping on a cloud. Very nice indeed, maybe he could sleep for five more minutes-

"I've never seen anything like it!" came a voice outside the paper door. Joji and Akari looked up, startled.

"He just chopped them up like _firewood_! And without making a face! It's not natural!" cried another voice. The voices were both men. Their silhouettes showed them to be samurai. The long, curving daisho at their waist proved that.

"They'll wake up the children," whispered Akari.

"Shh!" shushed Joji. Farmers, like him, were low ranking. They were only above merchants, because farmers could at least grow their own living. But samurai, they were _nobles_, and nobles were dangerous to make angry.

"He ain't human! They're were ten Shinsengumi, and in less than 3 minutes there were none at all! Nobody could do that, unless they were devils or something."

"Not unless you had one of those gaijin firearms. Not even Okita can stand up to that."

"Have you _seen _this guy fight? He took out _seven _gunmen once without breaking a sweat! He's a demon. A bloody, fighting demon."

A taller swordsman suddenly appeared, interrupting the samurais' argument. "Let's get on down to breakfast, I'm starving!"

Joji was frozen. Demon. It was a nasty word. It left a bitter taste on the tongue. And especially so when it was describing someone close to you. Joji knew. He knew they were talking about Shin- Kenshin.

"Joji," Akari reached over to her husband.

"It's alright. It's okay. It's him I'm worried about," sighed Joji. He rested his chin onto his knees, looking pensive.

**-oOo-**

"I heard what about what happened last night."

Kenshin mentally groaned. Of course he would've. It was just his luck. It was talk all over the inn. People were avoiding him like he was a carrier of cholera.

"Everyone did." Kenshin turned to stare at his older brother. Joji was wearing the same rough homespun that he had worn yesterday.

'_I _really _need to get them some new clothes._'

Joji was staring at Kenshin defiantly. They were alone in the courtyard. It was breakfast time, and everybody was busy eating.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did I have to overhear it from some samurai?" Joji glared at Kenshin with hard purple eyes.

"I didn't know I had to tell my brother everything I do. Particularly one who has been absent from my life for about ten years." Kenshin winced inwardly. That sounded petty, even to his ears.

Joji flinched. "That wasn't my fault," he murmured slowly.

Kenshin looked away, not wanting to see the hurt that was in Joji's eyes. Pride held an apology in his throat in an iron vice.

The wind blew harshly, shrieking wildly. The sky was an iron gray, stormy and uncaring. It matched the brothers' moods. The tension grew, swelling into astronomical proportions.

Laughter erupted from the building's doorway suddenly. Joji jumped, and gave a relieved sigh once he saw Kitaro chasing Hideaki out of the building. He gave a look at Kenshin, and was startled to see his expression didn't even flicker.

"Otou-san! Otou-san!" the children giggled. One latched onto his father. It was the older of the two. The younger one watched Kenshin with wide, staring eyes. It was unnerving.

The younger child stepped closer. Joji fought to keep a smile off his face as Hideaki crept towards his younger brother, who had a look of wariness on his face.

Hideaki scrambled until he was a foot away from Kenshin. Kenshin considered the young one to be the creepiest thing ever created underneath Amaterasu's skies.

Hideaki stared with those huge brown eyes, underneath a widow's peak, obviously from Joji. Then:

"You have red hair. I don't like you very much, Red."

Excuse me?

"What?" exclaimed Kenshin, offended. This was like Enishi, except this kid didn't bite his hand. Joji roared with laughter. Kenshin gave him a withering glare. "Nice to see someone thinks this funny," he said dryly.

"Hideaki, that's wrong!" cried Joji's eldest child. "You can't call him Red, that's rude!" he berated.

Kenshin gave a sigh of relief. At least this kid was on his side.

"You're supposed to call him Uncle Red."

…

Oh, how he hated Joji's children.

Joji fell onto his knees; tears of mirth streaming down his ruddy face.

"Oh good grief!" shouted Kenshin, throwing his hands up into the air.

Yes, it was just his luck.

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **Yes, they are brats. But they're the comic relief in this story, not to mention they're adept at bringing out Kenshin's lighter side.

Okay, some clarification is needed. The other redhead Joji was talking about last chapter? That was Ichimura Tetsunosuke from _Peacemaker Kurogane_ (which, by the way, is an excellent Shinsengumi Bakumatsu anime/manga. I highly recommend it.) The brunette is Saya, Tetsu's love interest. Amaterasu is the main deity in Japan's native religion, Shinto. She is the Sun Goddess, which is especially important to the Japanese. It is known as the 'Land of the Rising Sun'! The Imperial Family is said to have descended from Amaterasu. For a really cool game about this Japanese Sun Goddess, check out _Okami_ for Wii and Playstation 3. (Shameless advertising) I LOVE it.

See you later. Hopefully, I'll update faster next time. I love you all! Mieko_Yagyu.


	7. Dreaming of Danger

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer: **It was in the last 6 chapters, and it is going to be in the next few chapters, so why do I have to say it here? ***Sighs heavily*** I do not own Kenshin and most likely (99.999999% sure here) never will. There! You happy now?!

**-oOo- **

_Taptaptap_. _Taptaptap. Taptaptap_. Kenshin's eye twitched. He was going to have the worst headache by the time this monstrosity of an hour was done.

_Taptaptap_. _Taptaptap. Taptaptap_. It just wouldn't stop. Kenshin bit his lip. He couldn't exactly tell the man to desist. It would be rude.

_Taptaptap_. _Taptaptap. Taptaptap_. Punishment. This is what this was. Tomoe's death just wasn't enough, so on top of the insanity-by-grief, the gods were going to add plain old insanity.

_Taptaptap_. _Taptaptap. Taptaptap_. One more time, just one more time, and Kenshin would have to intervene. It was distracting from his job protecting Katsura, and that would not do.

_Taptapta-_

"Saigo-san, have you seen this?"

Thank the kami; it was Katsura to the rescue. Saigo Takamori, Satsuma's biggest supporter, was an annoying man, longwinded when it was his turn to speak, finger-tapper when he wasn't. He just would not be silent or still. Kenshin was _this_ close to attacking him.

"Outrageous! Why is Choushu leading this attack? Satsuma should be point!" Spittle flew across the room, landing on Kenshin's cheek. He flicked it off, growl growing in his throat. Yes, Saigo was _very _annoying. He could not stand being second best. Silly, egotistical man.

Katsura soothed the man's temper, pointing out all the reasons how Satsuma would suffer if they were caught; risky mission as it was, it was all too likely. Why waste Satsuma on such trivial matters as raiding a warehouse? Kenshin had to admit; Katsura was a master at diplomacy.

Finally, after another hour dragged its feet, the lanterns were blown out, and every one slunk back into the shadows to their headquarters. Kenshin followed his commander, staying close in case Shinsengumi decided to drop in on a surprise visit.

"Himura." Katsura Kogoro turned his head to look at his faithful bodyguard.

"Yes, Katsura-san?"

Katsura had to sigh. This man –no, boy – was so young and stiff. And it was all Kogoro's fault.

"I heard from Okami-san that your brother is here? Along with his family?"

Kenshin shifted, uncomfortable. "Hai. I have tried to convince him to leave these bloody streets, but he refuses to do so."

"Understandable. You are kin, and kin must stick together in these turbulent times. Besides, it must be hereditary," said Katsura, slipping in a joke.

Kenshin didn't get it. But he said nothing. Bodyguards weren't supposed to make conversation with their commanders anyhow.

"Himura," sighed Katsura again. They continued in silence to the Kohagi-ya, one pondering what he could do for a redheaded boy and the other making sure that no enemies came closer than a mile.

-oOo-

"Uncle Red! Uncle Red!" the children cried as they circled "Uncle Red". Kenshin sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, and gave a forced smile. They were in his room, wanting to see their uncle.

The littlest of Joji's pack was the little girl Ayame, age 5. She tumbled onto Kenshin's lap. The next in line was Hideaki, age 7. His little boy smile, filled with mischief, was all that gave away his intent to tie Kenshin's hair to chopsticks. Kitaro, age 9, was currently poking Kenshin in the side, seeing if he was going to crack at any moment.

"Breathe. Breathe. You. Are. Not. Going. To. Hurt. Them. Even if you want to," muttered Kenshin underneath his breath. A yank on the back of his head ended his mantra. He whipped around to chew out Hideaki-

Ow. Owowowowow. That _stung_. Kenshin looked in disbelief as Hideaki stared at flaming red strands wrapped around the wooden eating utensil. That was _his_ hair! Wrapped around _his _chopstick! Oh, how the gods tempted him on his no-killing-civilians vow!

Kenshin grabbed Ayame gently and pulled her off his lap. He stood up and ran away- no, _retreated_- outside onto the roof. The moon was bright and full. Kenshin rested his chin on his knees, drawing them close to his body.

He thought of Tomoe, and Shishou, and his life.

Tomoe. Her death still played over and over in his mind, every time he closed his eyes, whenever he had time to think. She…she was _everything, _and now she was gone. Gone, gone forever, and so was his happiness.

And Shishou-! Shishou must be furious at him! Kenshin had run off, to join a war his master had forbidden him to sign up for. He could never go back to the small hut that they had shared, the green grass growing long, the trees showing scars where Shishou and Kenshin had practiced their kata. A lump grew in Kenshin's chest.

Kenshin shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts. He would never kill again. Not after this war. He had promised Tomoe, and Shishou, and all the dead souls he had sent to the afterlife.

"_A promise is a debt unpaid. And a debt unpaid, baka deshi, is taxing on the soul. Just like not drinking sake," _Hiko had once told him. Of course, later that night, Hiko had busted up an entire sake merchant's stall after they overcharged him…

Memories. What a taxing thing on the soul, indeed.

-oOo-

Joji's dream had started out fine at first. It was about his old family. His father was sitting in the grass, telling Shinta a story. His mother was listening, feet tucked underneath her. Joji was watching from a birds-eye view, like he was in the tree right next to the house.

A summer's breeze whirled on by, carrying laughter in its arms. A peaceful scene. Joji was content just to watch, and listen. Shinta's hair swirled around from the wind's caressing touch, blowing red thick bangs in front of his eyes.

When the wind blew the bangs back, angry amber shone instead of innocent violet. Shinta morphed into the 16 year old he was in life, peasant rough homespun turning into blue and grey cotton, leather arm guards growing out of his arms. His hair grew, while their parents faded and disappeared. Finally, two swords, daisho, appeared at his waist, and Hitokiri Battosai stared at Joji, cold and expressionless.

Death was promised in those eyes.

The scene behind the teen twirled around, sifting into white. Winter's bite sank teeth into Joji's body, freezing him to the spot. Powdery snow fell softly, gently into Joji's hair. Battosai looked at Joji, and then also disappeared into the snow.

"It's you."

Joji turned around. It was a woman, exquisite in appearance, with her black hair tied back with a white binding, which matched her plain white kimono. A purple shawl was wrapped around her shoulders.

"D-do I know you?" Joji stammered.

"No. But you do know him," the woman said quietly. She had a serious look on her face, tinged with grief.

"Who?" asked Joji.

"Your brother. My husband."

'_Okay… this is weird._'

"My brother is your husband?"

"Was. He was my husband." The woman's face grew sadder.

"What do you mean?" Joji had a sneaking suspicion, but it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"I am dead, Joji-san. I was killed last winter."

Joji leaped backwards, stumbling into the cold snow. "Y-you're a spirit?!"

"That is correct, but I mean you no harm. I want you to do me a favor, Joji-san. My husband needs your help." The woman stepped towards Joji, face impassive once more.

"Be there for him. Don't run away from him, even if you want to. He would break." She bowed her head. "Please, please, do this for me. I love my husband, but I am not about to have him here."

She lifted her head, staring up into the cloudy sky. "My time is up. I must leave." She started to disintegrate, her feet breaking apart into snow.

"Wait!" Joji called, flinging his hand up. Tomoe turned and looked at him. "What is your name?"

Tomoe was silent for ten seconds or so. "…In the time before your brother, I was known as Yukishiro Tomoe. However, I prefer to go by Himura Tomoe now." She gave a slight, cheerless smile, then dissipated, white plum blossoms falling gracefully into the snow.

-oOo-

Hideaki woke up later that night when the moon was high up in the sky. It was time to put his plan into action. He changed out of his yukata silently, not wanting to wake up anyone. He shrugged on his travel clothes, and slid open the shoji sliding door slowly, so it wouldn't rattle.

He crept down the silent hall, keeping to the shadows. Some rowdy samurai nearly spotted him, but the promise of liquor kept them from investigating further.

Once he was outside the inn, Hideaki gave a sigh of relief. He was more of a country boy, and the city gave him the chills. However, even Kyoto was much more bearable at night, than that crowded inn.

Freedom. How nice it was. Hideaki set off at a loping pace, keeping the inn in his eyesight. Soon, he became more daring in that strange new world, and adventured even farther.

A quiet yelp of exhilaration escaped his lips. He was blissfully happy now. Just wait until he told Kitaro!

"Little boys shouldn't be out and about in the nighttime, boy," came a rough voice out of the dark, inky night. Hideaki yelped again, but this time in fear. He did not recognize that voice. He didn't like it; how it was different from his father's soothing tone, his mother's sweet sound, or even Uncle Red's quiet words. This one was scary.

"W-who are you?" Hideaki shivered. He wanted to go home!

"A wolf," growled the man. The moon came out from a grey cloud, shedding its light on the Kyoto world. It gleamed on unsheathed metal. "I need to keep my sword sharp, boy. Stand still and it won't hurt. Much."

Hideaki was going to die. And no one would be able to save him.

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **Aiee! Not the sticks! Not the flaming torches! I'm not going to kill off Hideaki! Who do you think I am, Stephen King? Please don't leave this story. I like it when people drop reviews. (Please?) This is a cliffhanger, but I will update. Later. (And no, the guy isn't Saitou or Okita or any other awesomely real Shinsengumi. He's just an OC.)

I like living, so please don't kill me,

MiekoYagyu


	8. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer: ***sits busily reading Rurouni Kenshin Volume 2 yet again* Heh heh. Take that Jin-e! That's what you get for taking Kaoru! *Looks up and sees impatient reviewers* Oh! Hey guys! I love Kenshin, but if I owned the series, Kenshin would go Battosai a lot more! *Drools* Mm, Batto-chan!

**-oOo-**

Hideaki stared at the man who was about to take his life. He clenched his eyes shut. He did not want to see the gleaming sword swipe down to split open his head.

_Fwish._

The whisper of cotton and a breeze came before Hideaki's startled cry. Hideaki opened his eyes. There was Uncle Red, katana unsheathed. He had the coldest look on his face. Hideaki shivered.

"Who are you?!" cried the man who had tried to kill Hideaki.

"The person who is about to kill a child-slayer," glared Uncle Red.

The other man laughed. "Ahaha! As if a shrimp could take down me, the great Minamoto Hatori of the Shinsengumi!"

"You talk too much," spat out Uncle Red. Hideaki then noticed his uncle's eyes. They were amber.

Minamoto Hatori growled. He raised his katana, his blue haori with the white triangle pattern rustling. "Amber eyes, red hair, and a cross-shaped scar on the left cheek. It's you, isn't it?"

"Yes, but you will not survive this night to tell about this encounter," Uncle Red said plainly.

"Today, the world will know even demons die!" yelled Hatori, and then he rushed Uncle Red. Uncle Red stood there, and then sheathed his katana.

"Giving up? I don't blame you, slayer of men!" laughed Hatori. And that was the last thing he did before Uncle Red unsheathed his sword faster than the eye could see. Hatori split into two halves; his legs going one way while the torso went the other. Blood splattered onto Hideaki's face and body, and Uncle Red was covered with the liquid.

Uncle Red flicked the blood off his sword, and sheathed it again. "Battojutsu. If you truly listened to the stories, you would have known not to let me sheathe my sword." He glared at the dead body, and then he looked at Hideaki.

Hideaki quaked, and threw up. Uncle Red pulled Hideaki's bangs out of his face so the hair wouldn't get stained even more. Hideaki started to cry.

His uncle pulled out some rice paper, and wiped off Hideaki's face. He avoided Hideaki's teary gaze, as if ashamed.  
"Are you okay, Hideaki-kun?" asked Uncle Red, adding the honorific to the end of Hideaki's name.

Hideaki sniffed, and buried his head into his uncle's shoulder. "T-thank you for s-saving me. H-he was going to k-kill me," he sobbed. Uncle Red stiffened, then relaxed and stroked Hideaki's hair.

"I'm going to have to clean your face again," he sighed. "I'm not very clean."

"I-I don't care," wept Hideaki. He buried his face even closer to his uncle's chest.

"Let's go back to the inn. It's not safe here," murmured Uncle Red after a minute. "Wolves usually travel in packs, you know."

He didn't wait for Hideaki's answer. He jumped up to the rooftops and ran back to the inn. Hideaki fell asleep in his uncle's warm embrace.

-oOo-

Saitou Hajime surveyed the dead body of Minamoto Hatori in disgust. "Did he really think he had a chance against the Hitokiri Battosai? Ahou." He glared at the corpse.

Okita Souji looked grim. "Definitely a battojustu. And one with a lot of force behind it. I'm taking a shot in the dark here, but I'd say Battosai was pretty angry when he did this." He dipped his fingers in the blood and sniffed it. "It's recent, too. I think we just missed him."

Saitou growled. He pointed towards the footprints in the blood. There were two sets. There were both small, but one was smaller than the other. "There was a child here."

"What?" Okita looked at the footprint. "What tiny feet," he mused. He looked around. "The tracks stop here."

"I guess he jumped," Saitou put in. "See? The blood splatters this way, suggesting an upward jump."

"But the walls are 15 feet tall in this area! He couldn't have jumped that high, unless he really is a demon…"

"Exactly." The thought made Saitou strangely happy. The Battosai was truly a worthy opponent.

-oOo-

"What were you thinking?!" bellowed Joji at his son. Hideaki fidgeted uncomfortably. He was in his uncle's spare blue gi, but he still had smeared blood on his face. Kenshin sat against the wall, katana clenched in hand. He also had blood on his body.

"I-I'm sorry, Otou-san," whispered Hideaki. Kitaro and Ayame were watching with wide eyes. Akari's lips were white from being pressed together.

"You had us worried sick! We had no idea where you were!"

Kenshin cocked an eyebrow. _He _had known _exactly_ where little Hideaki was the whole time. And Joji and his wife were asleep the whole time. Not that they were bad parents, but Joji, if Kenshin's memory served him correctly, was an extremely heavy sleeper. Apparently, so was his wife.

And, anyways, Hideaki had decided to do something rash and foolish. Honestly, walking around in a _foreign_ city at _night_… But seeing Hideaki cringe like that reminded Kenshin of a hulking swordsman chewing out his red haired baka deshi for dropping the practice sword. He knew how it felt like, so he took pity on the poor boy.

"Joji-nii, it's okay. I was watching him the entire time," Kenshin soothed. Joji turned on him, eye twitching. '_He wouldn't last a hour with Shishou._'

"But-but-but why is he covered in blood? And you-" Joji stopped, piecing together the facts that his brother was coated in the red liquid, Hideaki had been scared stiff and his face was encrusted with blood, and the fact that his brother was _Hitokiri Battosai_ and got the picture. In fact, he felt a bit stupid that he didn't notice it before.

"Somebody is dead tonight, aren't they?" Joji asked. Hideaki shuddered, and nodded his head yes. Akari clutched her children towards her, looking at Kenshin with something he didn't recognize.

"He attacked Hideaki. Your son would've been a victim of a 'practice murder'. It was either Hideaki's life or a Miburo's, and I chose what I felt to be correct," Kenshin said coolly. He stood. "I have to wash this off. I can wash off Hideaki as well, if you as wish."

"No!" cried Akari. She grabbed Hideaki, who had a 'Huh?' look on his face. Everybody looked at her. Kenshin felt a pang of hurt pass through him. But he quickly stuffed it underneath his mask.

She blushed. "It's just that I don't want Hideaki to be seen like this," she said lamely. Joji seemed to buy it. Kenshin nodded after a while.

'_It seems that I have frightened her…._' thought Kenshin. He slid open the shoji sliding door, pausing at the doorstop. He looked at Hideaki, then at Akari. Hideaki was every inch Akari's son, even down to the shape of his eyes. But the way his ki felt…

'_It's warm and fluttering. Like a bird._' Somehow, it reminded Kenshin of Tomoe when she finally smiled at him. It comforted him and saddened him. He left.

-oOo-

Kitaro watched his mother pace up and down the room while his father went to the outhouse. She was biting her lip, her brow creased with worry.

"Hideaki nearly died," she muttered. "Kyoto is not safe. I have to protect my children, but Joji…"

Kitaro stared at his brother, who was curled up around Uncle Red's oversized shirtsleeves.

"Okay then. That's what I'll do." Kitaro looked at his mother again. She sat down, and patted Ayame's hair lightly, not wanting to wake the girl. At this, Kitaro remembered he was supposed to be asleep as well.

'_What was that all about?_' he thought, before sleep came and claimed him.

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **I'm so sorry about the late update. I was sick with a stomach virus. And once I recovered, I had to deal with the devil incarnate, summoned from Satan's womb. Babysitting the evil, small child known as Kennedy is a feat even Shishio would blanch at. *shudders* Okay, now, Akari is afraid for her children. Mother to the rescue! Please don't hate her. Her mother instincts are kicking in, making her irrational. ……Yeah, that's it. Read and review. I eat them so I may live. I will get down on my knees and beg like a dog for reviews. Woof.


	9. Sad Admissions and the Color Gold

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer: **Hello. I am The Disclaimer. The Disclaimer is important. The Disclaimer now speaks in third person. The Disclaimer is speaking for MiekoYagyu right now. MiekoYagyu says she does not own Rurouni Kenshin, much to MiekoYagyu's regret. The Disclaimer thinks she's pathetic, and needs to get over it.

**-oOo-**

Joji watched his children sleep. They looked like sweet little angels. Except one was wearing a worn blue gi instead of a yukata. And one was faking sleep. And the other was drooling all over her futon. And wait just a second; what on earth was an angel?

Aw, never mind. They were adorable, let's put it at that.

Anyway, he watched them sleep. Joji started to get drowsy himself, but he couldn't join his wife in the futon just yet. He was waiting.

After an hour or so, his younger brother slid open the door. If Joji had not been awake, he wouldn't have known. Kenshin was _always_ silent, from walking to opening shoji screens that should've rattled.

Kenshin looked at Akari's bedroll and frowned when he saw that Joji's spot was empty. He instantly glanced towards the corner where Joji was resting at, even though it was hidden in the shadows and should've been the last place anyone should've looked. The hair on the back of Joji's neck stood up on end. His brother's display of instant awareness bordered on the supernatural.

"You should be asleep, Joji-nii," whispered Kenshin. Ah, he was adding the honorific. He was vulnerable right now. Joji now could try to break through his brother's hard exterior and figure out _something_.

"I could say the same." Joji beckoned his brother over with a tilt of his head. Kenshin sighed softly, but obeyed. Kenshin settled down against the wall, curling around his sword. It had the feeling of something practiced to a polish, almost as if Kenshin did this every single night. Joji had the nasty feeling he did.

"Can I ask you a few questions?" asked Joji, drawing one knee towards his chest and hugged it. It provided some comfort and stability, which was the total opposite of his life. His crazy, out of control life.

"You already asked me one," pointed out Kenshin, but he had a slight smile on his face. Joji punched him on the arm. "Yes, you can ask me some questions. But I have the right to not talk about some things, okay?" he said, while rubbing his arm.

"Fine." Joji thought of his first question. "What happened tonight?"

"I was on the roof, when I saw Hideaki come outside. It was late at night, yet he was wandering around Kyoto. I started to follow him from the rooftops in case anything happened. And something did, obviously."

"What happened?" whispered Joji, looking at his sixteen-year-old brother.

"Shinsengumi caught him. He was boasting, and he was drunk. You could smell it from fifteen feet away. He was going to kill Hideaki, Joji, and I couldn't let that happen." While he was speaking, Kenshin's eyes glinted amber for a quick second, then retreated.

Joji felt stunned. His brother spoke so casually of death. He knew, as Hitokiri Battosai, his brother dealt and lived with death every single day. Yet, when he saw it… It gave him chills.

"Hideaki is shy. Painfully shy, at times. But he tries hard to make friends," Joji remarked.

Kenshin gave him a look. No, make that the Look. "Joji-nii, telling someone that he doesn't like you, then tying that someone's hair to a chopstick is not _shy_. More like pranking-inclined."

"Yeah, well, he can be rude at times…" Joji said weakly in his youngest son's defense. Kenshin shook his head in mock disgust.

"He got the rudeness from you. The way you acted sometimes-!" Kenshin recalled.

"I was the good son! You were the one that put wasabi powder into Matsuo's tea!" Joji shot back quietly.

Kenshin took on a small, mischievous smile. "That was fun." Seeing Matsuo jump around in circles complaining about hot tea was priceless. Especially since he was rather fond of picking up Kenshin and hanging him upside down until Kenshin was gasping for breath. Then Kenshin sobered. Matsuo was one of the first children to die in the cholera epidemic. That's when Matsuo's resentful older brother started to whisper that something was unnatural about the boy with oddly colored hair. Maybe demonically unnatural.

Joji saw his brother's change in mood and frowned. If he didn't act quickly, Kenshin would retreat back to his shell, and he wouldn't find out anything more about the last ten years. He had to speak now-

"I miss the time we had on the farm…" Kenshin whispered. He traced a spiraling pattern on the tatami mats, eyes reflecting on themselves and distant memories. "Sometimes, if I think hard enough, I can remember what it was like to be normal… to be around people, and call them family…" His voice deepened in sorrow. "Sometimes I miss that most of all…" He lowered his eyes.

"You have me," said Joji. He reached out towards his brother, and clasped his shoulder. Kenshin looked up with pain-filled eyes. Joji was taken aback.

"I'm sorry, Joji. I'm so, so sorry." He bowed his head and Joji felt the need to envelop the diminutive redhead in a crushing hug. He gave into the feeling. Underneath the cloth of the yukata, he felt Kenshin stiffen then relax. But something was nagging at Joji in the back of his mind. He banished it to the recesses of his thoughts to reflect upon another day. Right now, he had to take up the mantle of older brother and comfort his sibling.

-oOo-

Kitaro listened to the hushed conversation in the corner of the room. He could hear them speak somberly, about Hideaki and family matters. Why did Uncle Red think he had no family? He had them, after all. Even Okaa-san. Even Hideaki.

Hideaki had taken a shining to their uncle, despite his earlier harsh words. Kitaro knew these things. He could see the soft blue glow around Hideaki's light brown whenever Hideaki spoke of Uncle Red. Ayame released bright purple shots into the sky whenever anyone was around. Kitaro shook his head mentally in disgust. Soon she'd be a _girl_, those nasty, icky things that liked to giggle at boys behind their hands. Kitaro had a very low opinion on girls. Except Okaa-san. She was okay. And maybe Toki wasn't so bad either. Toki was somewhat pretty, if you looked at her the right way… Kitaro blushed, and buried his head into the covers.

He could still see Otou-san's maroon underneath the covers. He could see the colors best if he closed his eyes. Everyone had a color. Some were grey or green. A few would show up with white. But never gold. Uncle Red was a tiny sliver of gold, always. It didn't flicker like Okaa-san's peach, or jump around like Ayame's violet. It was a burning, steady flame. But sometimes, like right now, Uncle Red's gold would be outlined with a dark black-blue, and then Uncle Red would be sad. A lot of times, there would be jagged red streaks around it. But the gold was always there.

If Kitaro ever wanted a color, he would choose Uncle Red's.

-oOo-

There were good days, and then there were bad days. For Hideaki, this was a Very Bad Day. Okaa-san insisted that he stay right by her side all day. He even had to do _laundry_. That was women work! Did Hideaki look like a woman? No, thank you very much.

But he had to help out with _laundry_ and _cooking_. Red flags of shame stood out on his cheeks whenever a man walked by and snickered at him. Kitaro had the nerve to show up and tease him. Wait until he got some stinging nettles shoved into his futon. Then they would see who was laughing.

Hideaki watched Uncle Red pass through a couple of times. He always stopped to say hello, but he never stayed long enough to help out. Okaa-san would make up an excuse to pull Hideaki away from Uncle Red. Hideaki wondered why. Wouldn't Okaa-san like extra help?

Women, Hideaki decided, were always going to be mysterious creatures.

-oOo-

'_She's looking at me again,_' thought Kenshin. Akari was shooting him these odd looks every time he walked anywhere near the children or her. It wasn't as if he was going to _eat_ her…

Kenshin straightened in an epiphany. That was it! She was afraid of him! He sank miserably. After last night's fiasco with the Shinsengumi, he was surprised she even remained in the inn. Who on earth would let their child near someone so stained with blood? Not a mother. And that was what Akari was, first and foremost. He knew then that Joji and his family wouldn't be around for long. Nobody he loved ever lived. Not his parents, not the three slave girls, not even Tomoe. But Joji and his family… they would live, even if it meant pushing them away.

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **It is alive! Muhahahahahaha! I pulled out this chapter from the bubbling excuse of a mind I have over the week and typed it out. It took _forever _to think up the plot for the chapter. So I decided, why not make Kitaro see colors? Yup, Kitaro can sense ki… by seeing people in Technicolor™! Heh heh. Now, on the angel thing in the beginning of the chapter…

One thing that bothers the heck out of me is when people make Christian references in Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction. For one thing, there are very few Japanese Christians even now. There were even less back in the 1870s. The chances of Kenshin and company being Christians are _highly_ unlikely. They were most likely Buddhist or Shinto. So I decided to make a point here by making a joke. Okay, my rant is done. You can both ignore this chapter and wish I never ever became a writer, or review. Because, as everyone knows, every time somebody reviews a story, an angel get its wings!


	10. Distractions are Costly in Sword Fights

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer: **I, alas, do not own Rurouni Kenshin. Watsuki-sama does, and he is much worthier than I. So if you want to complain about the Reflections OVA, complain to someone else. My inbox is already stuffed with my family nagging at me to watch "real shows, like American Idol!" As if anime

**-oOo-**

Okita Souji, the Terror of Choushu, was gleefully smiling at his enemy. The Hitokiri Battosai was standing in front of him! He was right there, and there was nothing to stop him from having a battle for history to record. Not even Saitou-san could stop him.

Battosai stood there, eyes cold and unrevealing. Okita smile grew wider. It always threw off his opponents. But Battosai's expression didn't change in the slightest. Good. Then what Nagakura-san said was true. Battosai never rose to taunts or challenges. And Okita's smile was exactly that: _Can you take me on and live? _

It wasn't their first fight. And it was most likely not their last. But the thrill was always there. The speed of Battosai's sword and his velocity of reading the opponent's next move always made Okita's blood rushing and thrumming in anticipation. Battosai was one of the best swordsmen in this nation. But Okita would prove that he was better.

Strike! Okita ran towards the hitokiri, sword lowered. Battosai quickly deflected the blow, but Okita's spirits weren't dampened. Quite the opposite, really. Their swords were silver blurs, the light blue of Okita's haori melding with Battosai's midnight blue gi. Death danced in the alleyway, steel singing clearly against one another.

Okita noticed a slip in Battosai's guard, and struck. The Choushu's personal demon hissed in pain as he spun away. A mid-sized gash was on his chest, staining the cloth crimson. The Shinsengumi behind Okita gasped in delight and surprise.

Okita's smile lessened the tiniest bit. Battosai was distracted tonight. A strike like that should never have hit _him_ of all people.

'_It cannot be. Is this going to be the last fight with my nemesis?_' thought Okita in despair. While it was of the utmost importance that he finish the assassin's life, the duels he shared with the redhead made his life interesting. And Okita's life was already slipping away…

Battosai glared at the cheerful Miburo. He clenched his sword tightly, and then rushed Okita. Okita was ready, and blocked it.

'_That wound should've made him slower, not faster!_' Okita's smile slipped for a second as he focused on the fight. Then he felt it deep inside his chest. '_Not now! Not in the middle of a fight!_' But it was coming.

He started to hack violently, the coughs leaving him no time to suppress them or even time to take a breath. Okita covered his mouth to hold in the cough. It was futile. He fully expected his adversary to attack him and kill him. The Shinsengumi took a step forwards, but Okita waved them off. But Battosai did not raise his sword. He waited patiently for Okita to stop coughing.

'_What?_' But he had no more time to be grateful for his enemy's honor because the coughing grew worse. He felt the wetness in his cupped hand and grew uneasy. Saitou-san would _kill_ him. The coughing receded, and he slowly unfurled his fingers. Blood shone red in the lantern light.

Okita looked at the hitokiri, as if to dare him to say anything. Battosai's eyes took on a new light, and the hardness in them softened for a second.

'_I don't want your pity, Battosai! I want to face your sword instead!_' he thought angrily. He wiped a bit of blood that had dripped down the side of his mouth with a thumb and glared.

"Let's go," he said, and attacked. Battosai dodged, feinting to the left, but then dove close to the ground. Okita didn't expect that. Battosai's katana swept upwards, and gouged a heavy slice on Okita's upper arm.

Okita gasped, but stabbed downwards towards Battosai's head. His plans were ruined when Battosai flew out to the side and leapt up. He flew up to the rooftops, and disappeared on the other side.

The Shinsengumi stood dumbfounded until Okita glared at them, his good mood ruined. "Don't just stand there! Go after him!" he shouted, clutching his arm. Oh yes, Saitou-san would _definitely_ kill him.

-oOo-

Kenshin rested in a shadowed corner, cloaking his ki. His concentration almost slipped when the wound Okita gave him throbbed. He pressed his shirt to the injury, hoping to stem the flow of blood.

'_That shouldn't have hit me. I was too busy thinking about Joji and his family and less on the fight where my mind was _supposed_ to be!_' he thought furiously. This slip-up could've been fatal if he hadn't leaned back in time. '_It was more instinct than skill that saved me._' Kenshin grimaced as he surveyed the damage. It was definitely going to scar.

Everything that could go wrong today was going wrong. First it was figuring out Akari's fear of him. Then it was learning that Katsura had yet _another_ meeting he needed the protection of the Hitokiri Battosai. It also helped speed things along when Katsura needed to intimidate Satsumasamurai who thought they were oh so much better fighters than any Choushu member. But while he realized his services were needed, it just made Kenshin a wee bit depressed. And, of course, when the Shinsengumi ambushed the departing Katsura and company, guess who had to stay behind and fight? You got three chances, and the first two didn't count.

Distractions, distractions. Hiko would've had his hide over the match with Okita. If Okita hadn't been sick and therefore not fighting at full strength, or if it had been _Saitou_, then Kenshin would've been very, very dead. Kenshin mused for a minute. Okita obviously was very sick to be hacking up blood. Maybe a terminal disease, if Kenshin's suspicions about Okita having tuberculosis were correct.

'_That's one of the worst ways to die. Wasting away, like my family did with cholera. Okita, I wouldn't wish your death on anyone._' Kenshin sighed with fatigue. He looked outside of his corner. The Shinsengumi's patrols had gone by, and for the last time too, if their defeated ki was any clue. It was time to go back to the Kohagi-ya and face Okami-san and Katsura. Or Joji. Oh yes, Joji would _definitely_ kill him.

-oOo-

Okami was livid when the teenager staggered in. He was clasping a bleeding chest wound, face pale with blood loss. Blood dripped from between his fingers onto her clean floors. Her rage, however, paled in comparison to the barely leashed fury of Himura's brother. The man had grabbed the boy's arm once he had gotten a good look at the bleeding gash, and had dragged the protesting ex-hitokiri up the stairs and into his rented room. The Choushu samurai were greatly surprised, but were highly amused. Katsura even smiled softly, and the man hardly ever smiled nowadays.

Okami allowed herself a small grin as she carried bandages, a cleaning cloth, and warm sake in a bowl up to the room. She slid open the door and saw a grim brother watch his younger sibling reluctantly slip out of the worn gi. The wound was a bright, angry red against the pale skin of his chest, but the bleeding had slowed to a crawl. She passed her supplies to the elder brother and took the bloody gi. She thanked him, and he thanked her in turn, and that was it.

She walked back to the kitchen to cook some more food (as men were always hungry) and saw the older brother's wife, Akari, keeping her children in eyesight as she chopped a radish.

"Can I go see Uncle Red now? I know he's back," begged the older boy. How he knew that, Okami didn't know. The younger son perked up.

"Oh, can we? I want to talk to him!" said the younger son.

"Shin-nii! Shin-nii! Wanna see Shin-ni!" the little girl with Himura's eyes exclaimed.

"No," said Akari. She ignored the tugging at her kimono, and continued to chop the radish. The poor produce was being tortured with rather savage strokes, however.

"But why not?" wailed the older son. Okami tsked mentally. Such poorly behaved children. They had allowed too much with them, and now they thought they could question any adult's orders.

"Because I don't like you being around him. He solves all his problems with violence, and I've always told you violence is not the answer." A rough stab at the vegetable. Okami blinked at the taut anger in her voice. There was so much dislike in that voice! It almost bordered on hate.

"Akari-san, I don't believe that to be true. Himura-san has solved many a problem peacefully. He's saved more lives than I can count," Okami rebuked. Akari spun around in surprise. All her children looked up to stare at the formidable woman.

"Then explain the daisho at his waist," Akari retorted. Okami then knew Akari wasn't lecturing about violence and its evils. She was terrified of Himura.

"Sometimes men must fight for their beliefs. Sometimes that's the only way to have change," Okami replied, head held high. While she couldn't force Akari to be reasonable about her brother-in-law, she could and would tell her why Himura did the things he did. Himura had ducked inside the kitchen many times during his early years at the inn and had confided to Okami. Then he was a scared thirteen-year-old boy, naïve and idealistic, who smelled blood every single night in his dreams, and tasted it whenever he ate. It had gotten so bad once that Himura had refused to eat any meals, and it had taken him fainting from hunger to get him to eat again.

"He's not a man! He's a boy!" whispered Akari heatedly. Ah. This was the issue of her fear. She was afraid her boys would follow in their newly discovered uncle's footsteps.

"No. Not anymore. He's grown up. He's no longer a child. He's a man. His genpuku has passed when he turned 15, but he grew up long before that," reflected Okami.

Akari looked away, and turned back to her now finely sliced radish. A sedated chopping pace continued, but Okami knew that the mother's fears were far from abated.

-oOo-

Joji pursed his lips as he dabbed at his brother's wound. Kenshin's eye twitched in pain as the alcohol in the sake sterilized the injury.

"What happened?" he asked as he picked up a bandage to wrap around Kenshin's torso.

"Okita happened," grumbled Kenshin.

"THE Okita Souji? The Demon Child? You fought that man and _lived_?" Joji exclaimed.

Kenshin gave him a look. He pointed to his pair of swords right next to him, and cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh. Right." Joji wrapped another layer of cloth around the gash to hide the embarrassed blush covering his cheeks.

He paused for a moment to actually _look _at his brother's chest. White and red scars crisscrossed all over, including something that looked suspiciously like…where those claw marks?!

"What happened to you?" he asked softly, poking at the three slashes in the right shoulder. Kenshin looked over and his eyes instantly took on a sad light.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, averting his eyes.  
"Kenshin, you tell me right now," Joji demanded. Kenshin looked back at Joji.

"…I got ambushed. I didn't know where he was. I had lost my sense of hearing, and it was cold. He was hiding in a tree and he had steel blades attached to his hands. That's it." Kenshin looked away again. Joji knew from the first seven years he spent with his little brother that he wasn't telling the whole truth. But he let it slide. He continued to administer the first-aid in uneasy silence as Kenshin brooded.

-oOo-

Hideaki watched as Okaa-san move on to another radish. He took one step backward, then another. Kitaro saw what he was doing and opened his big mouth to rat him out. Hideaki shot a pleading look, and jerked his head up towards the stairs. Kitaro's face brightened. He tiptoed after Hideaki, all the while watching their busy mother. Ayame had fallen asleep in the corner, drooling and dreaming of meaningless things.

Tiptoe, tiptoe. Yes! They were free! They walked quietly up the stairs, feeling victorious. And stealthy, oh so stealthy. Hideaki and Kitaro reached the shoji screen door. Hideaki looked over at his brother with a smile. Wait, why was Kitaro frowning?

"He's got the blue-black ring around his gold again," murmured Kitaro. Hideaki nodded. It was Kitaro's colors again. Kitaro saw people's colors and what they were feeling. Blue-black was sad, bright red was anger, and a darker red was death. Kitaro had only told Hideaki about the colors. Their parents would never understand.

Hideaki pushed open the door, and they both gasped. Uncle Red had a bandage around his chest and sake dyed pink by diluted blood lay in a bowl. Otou-san had his thinking face on, and Uncle Red's face betrayed nothing at all.

"What happened?" blurted out Kitaro. Otou-san jumped. Uncle Red didn't.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were with your mother." Otou-san crossed his arms. Hideaki gulped.

"We saw Uncle Red come in. We wanted to see him," Hideaki said. Uncle Red's left eye twitched, making the red cross-shaped scar on his cheek jump.

Uncle Red turned towards the children. "My name is- ah, never mind…" He propped up his head with a fist, looking dejected.

"Why is Uncle Red sad?" asked Kitaro. Uncle Red's head snapped up and out of his hand. His eyes widened as he scanned Kitaro.

"Tell me, Kitaro. Do you feel things that nobody else can feel? Or see things, perhaps?" inquired Uncle Red.

Otou-san's face scrunched up in confusion. "What's going on here?" he asked.

Uncle Red ignored him. He continued to look at Kitaro.

"…Colors. I can see colors," whispered Kitaro. Hideaki tried to send a message through his mind: _You shouldn't be afraid! Go for it!_

"And what color am I?" Uncle Red asked with a tilt of his head to the side.

"Gold. You're a little bit of gold. Nobody's ever been gold before," Kitaro admitted. Uncle Red looked interested.

"What's going on here?" cried Otou-san. "Colors? Gold? I have no idea what you're saying!" Uncle Red ignored him yet again.

A strange sensation flooded the room, and Hideaki felt pain and interest and sadness and a comforting sense of Uncle Red all at the same time. Otou-san's breath caught in a strangled cough. Kitaro clapped his hands over his eyes and a small cry of pain escaped him.

"Too much! Too much!" he cried. The sensation retreated almost instantly, and Kitaro took his hands away. "H-how did you _do_ that?" he asked dazedly. "Gold was _everywhere_."

"You can sense ki by seeing colors. Interesting…" replied Uncle Red. His face took on an apologetic look. "And I'm sorry for causing you pain. I just wanted to see what would happen if I uncloaked my ki."

"Wait! Wait just a minute! Are you telling me Kitaro can sense _souls_ by seeing their _colors_?" Otou-san massaged his temples. "My headache is not going away anytime soon, I gather."

Kitaro looked down in shame. Hideaki patted his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Uncle Red stood up and put his hand on Kitaro's shoulder. "It's okay. I don't see colors, but I can feel where people are and what they're feeling. I know what they will do next. You're amazingly talented in sensing ki." He smiled shyly. "You're all such amazing children." He smiled at Hideaki as well when he said this. Hideaki blushed up to the roots of his hair. Kitaro smiled back. Otou-san remained confused. Some things just didn't change.

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **An extra-long chapter for extra-special reviewers! I don't deserve you guys! I love you all…

Now to address some things. First: Tuberculosis was named in the 1830s. And if Japan didn't know that by the 1860s, well, too bad. I'm not going to call it the Vampire Disease like some back before the 1830s called it. Seriously, on top of having a terminal disease, you have to make them think they're vampires at the same time? Jeez. Next, some theories state that Saitou was a better swordsman than Okita. So if Battosai fought Saitou rather than a sick Okita, well… whatever. He would still have lived due to the will of the Fanfiction Writing Gods (you know who you are). And for the people who don't know it, the daisho are those twin swords samurai carried around. The long sword is the katana (Best. Sword. Ever.) and the short one is a wakizashi. Useful things, and beautiful to boot. If there are any more things you still don't understand, drop a review, and I'll clear them up for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must finish this beauty of a game called Hotel Dusk: Room 215. Good mystery game. I love the interactions in it.

Hope you like the chapter,

MiekoYagyu.


	11. BloodRed Eyes and Shinsengumi Troubles

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer: **To tell you the truth, I've gotten pretty tired of thinking up of new ways to say I don't own RuroKen. So I'm falling back onto the over-used cliché that is having an anime character to do it for me.

"Does it look like I'm owned by this woman? She doesn't have the imagination to think up a perfect character like myself," smirks Shishio haughtily. You can insert the malicious laughter here.

**-oOo-**

Jin-e scowled as he puffed on his cigarette. He had missed out on all the fun. While Okita battled the Hitokiri Battousai, Jin-e was patrolling on the other side of town. He glared at the rolled-up tobacco between his fingers and flicked it away. Some guys got all the luck.

He sneered manically as he remembered tonight wasn't a _total _loss. He had met a _very _interesting man tonight when he stopped by the soba stall ("You. Get me some soba. Plain soba. I'm hungry," growled an irate Saitou Hajime). The man had a certain feral grin, if you could call it that. The most interesting thing about him, however, was the fact that he had crimson-colored eyes.

'_Like blood spraying in the wind, dying the world red with it's sweet scent,_' mused Jin-e, feeling poetic for once.

_"Shinsengumi, eh?" remarked the man. He lounged against the wooden post, watching people walk by. He glanced over at Jin-e, a smirk playing about thin lips. "I don't particularly like them."_

_Jin-e chuckled in his typical mad way. The man had realized who he was, even though Jin-e wasn't in uniform. "Oh, but I am a terrible excuse for Shinsengumi. My superiors tell it to me all the time."_

_The man smirked even greater. "Interesting. But why are you admitting to it? I could very easily be one of Choushu's hitokiri, you know. You might not even make it to the street." _

_"Uhuhu. I have no doubt about you being hitokiri. You reek of blood." _

_The man's smirk widened further. "If I am hitokiri, then why have you not attacked me? Unless you are frightened?" _

_Jin-e sneered in response. "I am no fool, hitokiri. I know when my opponent is stronger than myself. But tell me this, hitokiri. What does it take to join Isshin-Shishi?" _

_The man eyed him with a cocked eyebrow. "Why would you care?"_

_"I only joined up with the Shinsengumi to have some fun. My superiors are getting rather… put off by my idea of enjoyment. Uhuhu."_

_"And that would be…?" _

_"Killing, of course."_

_"Seems we are not so different, Shinsengumi," said the man._

_"Soon to be ex-Shinsengumi," corrected Jin-e. _

_The man just laughed. "What's your name, Wolf of Mibu?"_

_"Udo. Udo Jin-e. And what's your name, hitokiri?"_

_"You may call me… Shishio."_

-oOo-

"And then, there were _two _guys, and they were shinging! Shinging!" Joji slurred, laughing hysterically. He leaned on his younger brother's arm for support, swaying to and fro. "They had shuch terrible voishes, Shinta—I mean, Kenshin. Or is it both?" He stared at his face-faulting brother with a bleary eye. "Shince they're two of you, too, I should guessh sho. Kenshin and Shinta." Joji looked down at his feet. "I can't feel my left foot."

"Well, Joji-nii, that's what you get when you drink two entire bottle of sake, _by yourself_…" sighed Kenshin. He heaved his slipping brother up another inch. He was quite heavy.

"Are you excushing me of being drunk? Caushe I'm not. Perfectly shober." With that said, Joji tried to push himself away from Kenshin and then promptly plummeted towards the ground.

Kenshin gave another exasperated sigh. "Oh, yes. Perfectly sober. Joji-nii, you can't even stand up!"

Joji tried to push himself up with his arms, stood like that for a few seconds, then his arms gave out and he collapsed again into the dusty street. "Jusht give me a shecond—"

"You're wife is going to kill me," muttered Kenshin, bending over to try and pick up Joji.

"I have a wife?" asked Joji, staring up at the dark night sky.

"Yes. Yes, you do. Come on, Joji-nii, this is getting stupid." While it was late at night to the point of early morning, patrols and other unsavory types roamed the streets. The kind Kenshin didn't trust to come near him in a 20-foot radius.

"Fine. But—"

"Hey! I heard something over there!" came an unfamiliar voice from around the bend in the road.

"I did too!" spoke a second voice, deeper than the others.

Kenshin froze and Joji fell silent. Kenshin reached out with his ki-sensing and noticed about 20 men. "Shinsengumi…!" he hissed, grabbing Joji and hauling him up to his feet.

"Shinshengumi? Are they not very nice or shomething?" Joji asked as Kenshin dragged him into an alley to avoid the fight.

"Joji-nii, if you can be quiet, I would appreciate it!" whispered Kenshin as he viewed the alley. "Tch! It's a dead end! And I can't jump with you, you're too heavy for me…"

"You shaying I'm fat?" Joji asked indignantly.

"I am not, so _please_, don't say anything!" Kenshin didn't want to kill; he had been having a good, blood-free day today, and he was quite bent on keeping it that way.

"Over there!"

"Look, someone was dragged over here!"

"What?"

Kenshin gave a silent curse. They had a _good_ swordsman in this patrol. "Just my luck," he muttered as he dropped Joji and unsheathed his katana.

"What'sh going on?" cried Joji as he hit the dirt.

"Get in that corner. Now." Kenshin's voice was soft, steel threading through it to give it a subtle, deadly edge. It had dropped an octave, making it sound like it belonged to a man twice his size.

Joji scrambled backwards into the corner. _'Wait, shouldn't this be the other way around? I should be the one protecting my little brother,'_ he thought. Which was hard, thinking, due to that fuzzy feeling in his head. Maybe he shouldn't have drunk all that alcohol…

"There's someone back there!" yelled the first voice.

"I'm telling you, it's most likely a drunkard and his lady friend."

"Just check it out, Shigure. If it is that, you wouldn't mind looking."

"Oi! I resent that!"

Kenshin stepped back into a shadow, angling his blade so that the swordsman's lantern light wouldn't reflect on the cold steel. He readjusted his grip on the leather hilt, waiting for the man to come by.

"I don't see anybody…" called 'Shigure'. "Hold on a sec, I see someone!" He lifted his lantern to show Joji in a corner. "Why are you hidden back in here?" Shigure drawled.

"None of your bushinessh," said Joji.

Shigure's mouth became a thin, white line. "Excuse me? What did you say, you little farmer?"

A few more Shinsengumi came strolling down. Kenshin waited, hidden in the shadows, for the perfect moment to strike.

"Is something wrong, 'Gure?" asked a particularly tall man.

"This _farmer_," at this Shigure's voice became disgusted, "is not paying me proper respect."

"Aw, come off it, 'Gure. It's just a drunk farmer, probably doesn't know what he's saying. Anyway, you ain't about to kill a man just because he's a rude, inconsiderate—"

"I can hear you, you know!" snapped Joji. All the men turned to look at him. Kenshin crouched against the wall, then leapt.

Kenshin jumped over his first victim's head to land in front of Joji. He then skewered him in the chest, pulling it out to shove it against another's throat.

"What the he—" The tall man only had enough time to yell this before Kenshin was upon him. Another swordsman tried to land a blow against Kenshin's back, but Kenshin deflected it with an easy block. The next swing decapitated the man.

"There's something going on back there!" The rest of the Shinsengumi came running in, swords raised. "Halt! We are the Shinsengumi!" they called, pale blue coats contrasting against the dark walls of the alley.

Kenshin killed the penultimate swordsman left. Shigure was the only one left of the first group. He scrambled back towards the pack, but took a place near the front.

"T-that's the H-h-hitokiri Battosai! The d-d-demon!" he stuttered. This brought up a nervous murmur.

"Demon of Kyoto! Hitokiri Battosai! Do not make me laugh!" A burly man laughed. It looked like he was the captain of the patrol. "This small, tiny man can not be the killer of so many men. Look at him! This is obviously an imposter. A sham. Hitokiri Battosai is a great swordsman, not an effeminate little boy! Ha!"

Kenshin's eye twitched. Okay, this guy was going to die first. He wasn't that short, thank you very much! And he did not look like a girl, for the last time!

He flicked the blade to rid himself of the blood, purposely ignoring Joji's audible shudder. Kenshin sheathed the blade and sank into the Battojustu stance. He said nothing, just glared at the soon-to-be dead men with glowing amber eyes.

"Charge," smirked the leader, and then all hell broke loose.

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **I be baaaaaaaack! I am ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVVVEEEEEE! MWUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! …Yeah. Sorry for the late update! So so sorry! I am a bad fanfic authoress, making you wait so long! Forgive this writer!

On a side note, I have Shishio be the reason Jin-e deserts the Shinsengumi. Jin-e's no idealist, he just wants to kill. Besides, Jin-e is awesome. He needs more fanfiction written about him.

This story is nearing its end. But it's not over yet, so keep tolerating it, please?

Hoping for forgiveness,

MiekoYagyu


	12. It All Starts to Fall Apart and an OMAKE

**Something Suspicious**

**Disclaimer: **Kami-sama! It lives! But MiekoYagyu only owns the original characters. Nothing else is hers. Duh.

**-oOo-**

His brother leaped and danced above the Shinsengumi, sword flashing brilliantly. He was death itself, with his red hair leaving streaks in the air as he killed with unnatural speed. Joji could see why they called his brother a demon, for nothing human could possibly move like that.

The captain of the patrol snarled in fury, whether it was at himself for underestimating his enemy or at the fact that a diminutive redhead was decimating his men, Joji didn't know. Either way, it didn't matter. Blood splattered onto the white walls of the alley, and the captain fell with a doll-like limpness. Joji backed further into the corner when a sick thud reverberated in the narrow area.

Soon, there were only two swordsmen left. His brother turned to look at the surviving Shinsengumi with glowing amber eyes. "I do not wish to kill you," he whispered, deathly quiet, "but I do what I must."

He sprang with all the grace of a dragon going for the kill, katana moving fluidly from his side. Joji wanted to speak, to shout that this was _wrong_, because a sixteen-year-old shouldn't kill people who obviously wanted to run and never show their faces in public again. No. A sixteen-year-old shouldn't have to kill at all.

One swordsman fell silently, his sky-blue haori growing a cut and slowly being dyed red from a kesagiri cut. Kenshin turned to the next who turned and tried to run out the alley. The ex-hitokiri tensed, about to leap towards the man and cut him down with a simple battoujutsu–

"Don't!" Joji found his voice, his hand flinging out to stop his brother. "Don't kill him!"

Kenshin stopped in shock, and turned to look at his brother with surprise in his eyes. It looked as if he had forgotten that his brother was there. Then he realized that the last Shinsengumi was getting away. He hissed, and turned around again.

Joji stood up, swaying from the alcohol in his system and the over-bearing smell of blood. He gathered his courage, and said, "I said stop! Listen to me, otouto!"

Kenshin flinched slightly, but considering this was from his emotionally stunted brother, it was something. Joji capitalized on his opportunity, and lurched to grab his brother by the shoulder.

"Don't kill him." Joji shook his brother by the shoulders, "He's done. There's no point in killing someone who wants to run away!"

Kenshin had looked shocked, but his delicate, bloodstained features soon twisted to rage, "Idiot!" he spat. "You made me let him get away!"

"I said that there's no–"

"You don't understand!" Kenshin wrenched himself from his brother's tight grasp. "_He saw your face!_ Don't you understand what that means?!"

"No, I don't. What does it matter?"

"It means your description is going to be spread around to the entire Shinsengumi! You'll be hunted down, because you were spotted with me. Don't you get it? You and your family are in danger!" Now Kenshin grabbed his brother by the hand, dragging him out of the alley into the moonlit street. He stuck to the shadows, moving swiftly with his brother behind him.

"Wha-? I, um, what–" Joji struggled to keep up, his feet tripping over themselves in a lame attempt to keep up.

"We're going back to the Kohagi-ya, then you are packing your bags and _leaving_. Tonight."

Joji stopped, jerking his hand out of his little brother's grasp. "What? No. Hell no! I am not leaving here by yourself, you self-destructive _idiot_–"

Kenshin turned around furiously, amber eyes flashing dangerously. "You're being the one who's being self-destructive," he whispered fiercely. "What do you think you can do? You can't stay here. They will be searching for you. And if they find you, they find your family. Your kids. _And they will kill them_. Or worse, sell them into slavery. It doesn't matter that they are children. They have come from treacherous parents, have heard treacherous things, and so there is no hope that they are untainted. They have no special abilities that can save them, except Kitaro-kun. They are now practically walking targets! If you and your family don't leave, they. Will. Die."

Throughout the speech, Joji's face had grown paler and paler. "B-but what about you? The Shinsengumi is actively searching you for, too."

Kenshin's eyes darkened a bit. "I'm only one person, and I am a hitokiri. But even so, I always have to hide. I never go out in public with a hat to hide my hair, or go out unless absolutely necessary." He paused. "Tonight was my first night out for a long time."

Joji cursed silently underneath his breath. This- this _fiasco_ was his entire fault. He was the one to suggest drinking. Akari had given him the disapproving stare that all women seemed to have when he had announced his plan. She had picked up Ayame's yukata and a sewing needle, and started to stitch up a small rip. Then, with an icy tone, told him if he came back drunk, Very Bad Things would happen.

Kenshin broke Joji out of his haze by again dragging him towards the inn. "Come on. We don't have a lot of time."

"Wait! I'm not leaving you here!"

"I have just outlined all the reasons why you are–"

"No, I agree you with you there, now. But, you can come with us," pleaded Joji.

Kenshin stopped.

Joji explained. "You aren't happy here. A blind person could tell that. Killing people is killing you! You used to be- you used to be happy! I can tell that whenever you're around the kids that your ice-mask comes off. If you come with us, you can be happy. We can go back to the countryside, you know. You can be a farmer again– what?" Joji stopped talking.

Kenshin had started to tremble slightly. He dropped Joji's hand, shaking fingers reaching up to finger the ugly cruciform scar on his left cheek.

"Kenshin?" Joji walked around until he was facing him. "What is it?" Kenshin refused to look him in the eyes. The amber was gone; what was left was nothing but an achingly pained violet.

"She- you, I…" Kenshin's voice was slightly raspy, as if he was about to cry. He took in a shuddering breath, and then closed his eyes.

"She? Kenshin, tell me." Joji got the horrible feeling that "she" was in fact the mysterious woman from the odd dream he had. That Tomoe woman.

"I, I lived with a woman in Otsu, a while after the Ikedaya Jiken. There was an incident, and I… I got out, but not her…" Kenshin started to dig his nails into the flesh of his cheek.

Joji remembered something.

_"Was. He was my husband." The woman's face grew sadder. "I am dead, Joji-san. I was killed last winter."_

"…_I got ambushed. I didn't know where he was. I had lost my sense of hearing, and it was __**cold**__. He was hiding in a tree and he had steel blades attached to his hands. That's it." Kenshin looked away again. Joji knew from the first seven years he spent with his little brother that he wasn't telling the whole truth. _

"Is that how you got the scar on your cheek? And on your body?" Joji asked.

"Yes, but… this isn't the best place to talk about it… I'll tell you later." Kenshin sucked in air, and let it out. Then the pain was shoved underneath the emotionless mask he always wore, and he held out his hand.

"We have to hurry." _Later. I promise_. "The wolves will come out to hunt soon."

**-oOo-**

**Author's Note: **I am so, so sorry. There is nothing that can be done to excuse my tardiness in posting up this chapter. I am ashamed that I made some RK fans wait for this chapter, and I fully deserve any punishment you deign to give me–

Kenshin: Are you done prostrating yet? Nobody actually _reads _the Author's Note, you know.

MiekoYagyu: You are much meaner than the series let on.

Kenshin: That's Canon!Kenshin you're thinking of. I'm PoorlyCharacterizedFanfic!Kenshin. You know, the cocky, arrogant sex-god vampire/werewolf/demon who lusts for the blood of Kaoru, or, if it is a shonen-ai fic (gods help me), Sano?

MiekoYagyu: …Heh heh, yeah…

PoorlyCharacterizedFanfic!Kenshin: …You scare me. And I've seen Jin-e in a spandex jumpsuit thingy.

**And for your patience for putting up with the abysmal wait, you get an OMAKE!!!**

Hideaki glared at his uncle. This was getting personal. He was the king at the game, and nobody was ripping his title from him. His uncle cocked an eyebrow at him, a twitch developing at the corner of his mouth.

"Again!"

"Hai, hai."

"Saisho wa gu! Jan! Ken! Pon!"

Hideaki held out a fist. Kenshin held out a level hand.

"AUUUGH!!" Hideaki yelled his frustration out to the world.

Yes. They were playing Jan Ken Pon. And Hideaki was getting beaten. Thoroughly. And Hideaki was the one that told his uncle not to go easy on him. And what did you know? His uncle was taking those words to heart.

"What's going on?" His dad popped in to watch the pair in the courtyard.

"Jan Ken Pon, Joji-nii." Kenshin smiled genially.

"He's beating me," huffed Hideaki.

"Hey, let me play," Joji said, sitting down to face Kenshin.

"Saisho wa gu! Jan! Ken! Pon!"

Otou-san lost. He laughed.

"Again!"

"Saisho wa gu! Jan! Ken! Pon!"

And Joji lost. And lost. And lost.

"Okay, you're using that move predicting thing, aren't you? That is cheating, you know!" Joji was visibly frustrated, glaring at his little brother. Kenshin got a funny look then, like he was about to burst out laughing, if his stoic uncle would ever do something like that.

"I can't help it." Kenshin held out his fist. "Want to try again?"

"No! Not until you turn it off!" Joji crossed his arms and huffed.

"I can't _not _use it! It's not something you can flip on and off!" Kenshin shot back. "And it is _not_ cheating. Maybe if you weren't so obvious..."

"It is SO cheating! How is it not cheating? You're predicting my next move!" Joji turned to Hideaki. "Is it cheating, Hideaki?"

"Uh-HUH!" Hideaki smirked evilly at his uncle, who got an exasperated look on his face,

"It's. Not. Cheating. And no using children to win arguments!"

"I'm not! But yes, it is!"

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Not!"

"So!"

"Is NOT!"

"Is SO!"

"Actually, I'm inclined to think it is cheating, Himura." A new voice came, and Kenshin stiffened before blushing to the same shade of his scarlet hair.

"K-Katsura-san!" Kenshin stood up quickly, flustered at having been caught being reduced to a childish spat.

"No, no. Sit down." The man named Katsura sat down politely, before holding out his fist. "I, too, would like to play."

"Ugh…" Kenshin cradled his head.

_'Choshu are _definitely_ casual…' _he bemoaned in his head.

***

**Just a little something. Jan Ken Pon is the Japanese version of Rock Paper Scissors. "Saisho was gu!" is what people say before starting a game. Happy Thanksgiving, American readers! Now shoo. Kenshin has to cook a turkey.**


End file.
